


Prince of a Failing Empire

by Taylor_WritesFanfics



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Forced Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taylor_WritesFanfics/pseuds/Taylor_WritesFanfics
Summary: King Peter Lewis III was crowned at 16, and he's fed up with his dad's old assistant. He sneaks into town to find himself a new one, and stumbles upon a cute baker boy named Patrick Stump. Despite the pressures of royalty and the stigma around being gay, the two fall in love.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Kudos: 7





	Prince of a Failing Empire

He was so young.

Dale did her son's hair, brushing it back into a light, neat swoop on his head. "There you go, Peter," she comforted. 

"I don't want to," he complained, "why do I have to?"

She sighed, "it's something daddy wants you to do."

"Why won't he let me do what I want?" 

"Let's put it this way, would you rather have him out fighting?" 

"No," Pete sighed. He knew he'd have to do this for weeks, but in his head, complaining now would get him out of it. 

"C'mon, you've got to go out there now," his mother pushed him out towards the public viewing area of the palace, where his father was waiting for him. 

He was so young.

He was wiping down the counter of his parent's bakery. He had to be working somehow, and this is the only way he could, being too young to work in the kitchen. At some point, he would grow out of working at home and go bake for someone important.

"Patrick! Come inside, it's time for dinner!" his sister yelled from inside. He tossed the wet cloth in the laundry and sat down at the table with his family.

They were so young. 

...

"I told you, I just want to be alone." Pete angrily told his planner.

"But sir, your coronatio-"

"What part of alone don't you understand?" He stared at the mirror. His black hair hung in his face. There were 30 minutes before he had to go out and face his kingdom as king. King Peter Lewis the third. God, he hated that name. 

He focussed on the hair in his eyes, then looked to the electric razor on the bathroom counter. 

King Peter Lewis the third was crowned at 16, head shaved. 

He sat in his room, tapping a pen against his desk. His dad's old assistant was yapping his ears off, and Pete knew he wanted him gone. But he couldn't fire him without a replacement. 

"Leave my quarters," he ordered.

"Yes, your highness."

Thank goodness. Now he could escape. He had a set of "civilian" clothes he'd been using to sneak out for years, but now he was looking for something. Changing quite quickly, he was soon out his castle window and walking towards town, hood up to obscure his identity. 

...

Patrick quickly wiped the bakery counters of flour and brushed his hands against his apron. Looking out at the street, he saw a hooded boy, not much taller than him. Strange, for midday. The boy came closer to the shop, so he felt he could talk to him.

"A little hot for a hood, ain't it?" Patrick called, wiping down a couple of dishes. 

"I guess," the boy said, walking closer to the bakery counter, and took off his hood. His face seemed strangely familiar to Patrick and was definitely pretty cute. _Focus_ , he thought to himself, _focus_. 

"What'll it be, traveller?" 

"Your specialty," he replied. Patrick nodded and quickly went further into the kitchen to start. "And your name."

That was quite a shock. Strangers, especially travelling strangers, don't ask for names, but he was cute, and he probably wouldn't be back, so it couldn't hurt. "Patrick, Patrick Stump," he said, returning to his baking. 

"That's a nice name."

"Well, I didn't really decide that," Patrick snarked, placing a handmade cinnamon bun in front of the stranger. "Not the house special, but mine. Judge me on that." 

Of course, Patrick was an amazing baker. Fit for a king. As the stranger ate his delicacy, he got some questions. "So what brings you into town?" Patrick asked as he cleaned up. 

"I-I'm a representative of the king, he's looking for a new assistant." He looked to Patrick, "you're a pretty good candidate."

He smiled, "Wow, my parents want me out with a job, and under King Peter? An honour." 

"You'll get a letter in a few days if you've been selected."

  
  


Pete was so fixated on this baker boy. He was so cute and so kind. He had to be his assistant. 

"Maxwell!" he yelled for his planner, the last job, "write a letter confirming a job as a palace assistant to Patrick Stump."

...

Patrick approached the castle gates, nerves growing as the hand he held his letter in started to shake. Surely this was all a mistake, and he would be sent home to run the bakery in embarrassment. 

“Oh, Stump, welcome,” the guard said, opening the gates. Patrick was in shock. At this point, it must’ve been a dream. He entered hesitantly scared of being shooed off by the king.

Pete lit up when he saw Patrick walk in, but he couldn’t be that, especially around other servants. He resumed his straight-faced appearance, hoping he didn’t come off as too distant to the cute boy who was now his assistant. “Hello,” Pete said, hoping he came off as unphased. 

Patrick, caught off guard, immediately bowed. “Your Majesty.”

“Are you my new assistant? Stump?”

“Yes your Majesty,” Patrick said, very nervous. 

“Guards, leave. I want to be alone with this Stump boy.” Pete waited patiently for everyone to be gone, and out of earshot. When he was sure, he walked over to Patrick, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Stand up,” he said softly. He looked into Patrick’s blue eyes as he stood up. “You don’t have to call me ‘your majesty’ all the time. Call me Pete.”

Patrick took a deep breath. The Kin- Pete, seemed nice. “You can call me Patrick, in that case.” 

“Good.” Pete smiled, and Patrick took a good look at him. His face looked familiar, but not just as king. He kinda looked like the traveller boy, the King’s representative. Certainly just as cute. _No! This is your job,_ Patrick thought. It couldn’t possibly be him, right? 

“Now, I’d like a cinnamon bun. Your specialty,” Pete asked after he’d showed Patrick his room. Patrick went wide-eyed. He was right. 

“You’re the traveller boy,” Patrick said. Pete smirked. “I guess I better be on that cinnamon bun then, traveller,” he laughed, “where are the kitchens?” 

Pete rubbed the back of his neck, “Come with me, I- I built one special for you.”

Patrick followed him, smiling awkwardly, “you really did that for me? You barely know me, I barely know you!”

“Can a boy try to know one better?” Pete asked, opening a door and showing Patrick his new kitchen. It was beautiful, laid out like the one he had at home. 

“It’s great,” Patrick said, smile prominent on his face, “you can, head to your room now if you’d like.”

“I think I’d like to stay here,” Pete says, “watch the master work.” Patrick laughs and gathers his ingredients. 

“Be sure to stay out of my way.” 

Patrick works meticulously and flawlessly. He’s done this a thousand times, and he loved it so much. The work was quick and nearly effortless, the only thing taking a lot of time was the oven. 

“Sorry, it just, takes time to bake,” Patrick laughed awkwardly. He’d just checked the batch again and they weren’t quite done. 

“I know, I can wait.” Pete smiles slightly. _You’re hella cute too._

“Really? I’m sure you’d rather have a nice cinnamon bun than hang out with me. I don’t know why you didn’t just hire me on as a cook,” Patrick admits, “I’m probably not even qualified.”

“You can write, right?” Pete looks up, and Patrick nods. “You’re more than qualified.” Patrick checks the oven again, and this time they’re done. He ices them quickly and serves one to Pete with a fruit garnish. 

“There you go. Hope it’s worthy of your tastebuds, oh king,” Patrick jokes.

Pete laughs, “I’m sure it’s more than worthy.”

Of course, it was perfect.


End file.
